The St. Paul Conspiracy by Roger Stelljes

the neighborhood if they saw anything,” said Lich. “And by the way, can we step inside?”
    “Oh, sure.”
    Mac, Lich, and Hernandez stepped inside his apartment into the living room, which was sparsely furnished with a couch, chair, coffee table, and TV. There were few if any personal furnishings displayed. Lich, looking around, asked, “Just move in?”
    “Yeah, just a few days ago,” Hernandez replied. “When did it happen, the murder?”
    “We think last night?”
    “Oh, my.” Hernandez replied, putting his hand to his chest. “What time?”
    “We’re not sure,” Lich lied.
    “Hmpf.” Hernandez walked over towards the porch looking out onto Summit Avenue. “Is her place the last condo on the end?”
    The way he said it caused Mac and Lich to share a look. This guy was leading somewhere. “Yes. Why do you ask?” Mac inquired.
    “Well. I was having trouble sleeping last night, so I went out for a walk around 12:30 a.m. Thought maybe the fresh air would clear my head. So, anyway, I was walking up St. Albans and ran into someone in the street.”
    “Who was that?” Mac asked neutrally.
    Hernandez hesitated. “You guys probably won’t believe this.”
    “Give it a shot,” Lich said.
    “Mason Johnson,” Hernandez blurted.
    That got their attention. “What? Mason Johnson? Senator Mason Johnson?” Mac replied, disbelieving, his heart skipping a beat.
    “Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Hernandez replied confidently.
    Mac shared a quick look with Lich that said, Oh, boy, the case might have just gone nuclear . “What time?” Mac continued.
    “It was 1:30.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Oh, yes. I thought it odd to see him so late like that on the street, so I looked at my watch. It was 1:30.”
    “Where did you see him on the street?” Lich asked.
    “He was coming down the steps of the condo, and he turned and walked right by me on the sidewalk. I even said hello to him, and he said hi back,” Hernandez said, remaining self-assured. “I don’t think he expected to see anyone on the street at that hour. He kind of ducked his head when he saw me coming. But he said hello, walked by me and got into his car.”
    “What kind of car?” Lich asked.
    “Lexus, I think, white. He’d parked it down the street a ways. I kind of turned to watch him after he went past me. He got in the car and drove away. I remember thinking it was the darndest thing to have seen him on the street like that.”
    “Mr. Hernandez, you’re sure?” Lich asked, a little unbelieving.
    “Oh, yes. It was him. He’s on TV a lot. You couldn’t help but recognize him. I mean, he’s a pretty recognizable guy. You say Claire Daniels lived in that condo huh?”
    “Yes, sir.” Mac replied.
    “Kinda late to be leaving there.” Hernandez stopped for a second and put his finger to his mouth, and then quietly said, “Hmmm. I thought the senator was married.”
    Mac was thinking the same thing and gave Lich another quick look, “Mr. Hernandez, we need you to come downtown and give us a statement.” Viper was parked on the north side of Summit Avenue, across the street from McRyan’s Explorer. That had been mere serendipity, as they were parked there when McRyan arrived in the late afternoon. They tried to move the van around all day, never parking in the same spot for too long. They had even changed vans around noon, from the dark blue one to white. It wasn’t unheard of that a murderer would be watching the police work at the crime scene and get noticed. Viper wanted none of that, so they changed vans and locations throughout the day.
    Viper wanted to make sure the crime scene developed as planned. If the police investigated properly, they would find what Viper wanted them to find. He’d checked on McRyan, and the word was he was a good young cop. So far, so good, as the young detective and his tubby partner were following the trail of breadcrumbs he had left behind.
    As he rubbed his eyes and yawned for what seemed like the